


Empires of the Mind

by VictoriaAGrey



Series: Sine Metu Vive [2]
Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Timeline, Daryl is oblivious to being obvious, Grief, I stole THE line from the comic books because I fucking can, Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slash, Suicidal Thoughts, Writing an insane Rick is harder than you would think, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:31:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaAGrey/pseuds/VictoriaAGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick Grimes had no idea what to do with this – whatever it is – that he felt for Daryl Dixon; the man who had made a meteoric rise from outcast to second-in-command in a matter of weeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empires of the Mind

**Author's Note:**

> This is the companion piece I teased you all about in the end notes of At the Heart of It All. Rick's POV going through canon and what it was like for him to fall in love with Daryl.
> 
> HOWEVER, this can be read independently from AtHoIA. But this series was meant to show both sides of a love, so I suggest reading them side-by-side.
> 
> Forewarning: Rick's mind isn't exactly a pretty place.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this as much as Part 1.

Rick Grimes existence more closely resembled a Hallmark movie than real life.

He grew up in a quaint, everybody-knows-everybody town. The house he lived in had been in his family for generations. Winona and Livingston Grimes were happily married and lived to make their only child’s life a joyful one. Spotty, his golden retriever, was the first significant death he faced. His best friend lived next door and they vowed at the tender age of ten to join the police force together. At the age of sixteen he met the new girl in town, married her at nineteen, and had a son with her at twenty-three. They lived in a modest house five miles away from his family home and twelve minutes away from the police station where he worked with his best friend.

Plenty of people were set up for failure in this world, but Rick knew he wasn’t one of them. If he failed, the blame rested in its totality on his shoulders.

The men of the Grimes family were inexorably drawn towards law enforcement and Rick knew that he wanted to carry on the tradition from a young age. Livingston was predictably thrilled by his commitment to enter the academy and Winona was unsurprisingly supportive, but nervous for her son to become an officer of the law. _Typical mother_ , Rick thought fondly after he told them of his choice.

Rick had been a cop for only a year when he had his first lethal force encounter. It was a routine domestic disturbance call that turned deadly when the stupid son of a bitch decided to pull a gun on his battered wife. Rather than letting her go and surrendering, he shot her in the head and moved to take aim at Shane. Rick shot and killed him before he finished taking in his last breath.

As cases came, this one was a simple open and shut, but not for Rick. He became obsessed with learning everything about it as well as the people involved. Autopsies showed that the husband, Arnold Brixton, had a BAC of .23 with traces of cocaine still present in his left nasal cavity and the wife, Winnie Rose Brixton _née_  Chaplin, showed evidence of having multiple bone fractures and breaks that had gone untreated as well as a burst eardrum. They had an eight year old daughter, Ellie Lenore Brixton, who had thankfully not been in the house because her mother had sent her away to stay with her sister, Lisa May Tucker, for the weekend. The only explanation Lisa had been given for the dropping off of her niece was that “things aren’t safe at home.”

There was a constant itch present at the base of his skull in the ensuing weeks after the shooting. Lori began urging him to see a psychiatrist and Shane was concerned, but Rick knew it came from him thinking that he wasn’t cut out to be an officer if this was how he reacted to a lethal force encounter. But that was where everybody had it wrong. He wasn’t reacting this way because he shot and killed Arnold Brixton; he didn’t give a shit that that scum was dead and buried. It was justified and he felt no guilt about it.

What beleaguered his mind were thoughts of Winnie and Ellie. Winnie lived in a constant state of fear. Fear for her life and then, after her birth, that of her child’s. What was it like to constantly wonder if today was the day her husband took it one step too far and beat her to death? How did it feel knowing that the best she could do to keep her child safe was to send her away? And poor Ellie. Eight years old and her parents were dead, both at the hands of her father. Had she seen too much to lead a normal life? Was she now damned to enter a relationship that would devolve into what her mother had fallen into?  Or had she gotten out in time? Was she saved from a similarly tragic life?

Rick’s view of the world was irreparably jaded after the shooting of Arnold Brixton. Where he had been disgusted by abusers before, he now felt an intense hatred that tainted his soul. There was no room in his heart for him to find mercy for those who abused the people they were supposed to care for. In response, a place in his heart formed that harbored an equally intense sympathy and protectiveness for those who were damaged by those _things_.

Once a month for a year, Rick visited Winnie’s grave and placed a white rose atop her headstone after he cleared it of weeds. On the one year anniversary of her death, he added a note with his usual rose post-ceding a particular phone call.

_Winnie,_

_Ellie is moving to Louisiana with Lisa. She is excited to try genuine gumbo for the first time and meet the girls at the private school she will be attending._

_Ellie is safe._

_Officer Grimes_

After that day, Rick only visited Winnie annually; during which time he would use his cell phone to call Lisa and ask after Ellie.

Never once did he look or tend to the grave of Arnold Brixton.

The birth of Carl reinforced in him a desire to be every inch of the father that his son deserved. Livingston passed away from leukemia and Winona of a broken heart in the months leading to his birth, but Rick took comfort in their belief that he would make a good father. Carl and Lori were his world and he swore that no matter what, he would always be everything they needed him to be and more.

Finding them in the midst of The Turn was dumb luck and he knew it. The air vacated his lungs and tears fell down his face at the sight of his son and wife alive when odds were in favor of them being dead. A joy never to be duplicated filled him and he embraced them hoping that his love and relief at seeing them alive was transferred through the hug. He was temporarily confused by Shane’s reluctance to join them, but he ignored it once he came over and he was able to hold his best friend once more. Even knowing the price of this reunion, he wouldn’t have changed a single detail about what led him there.

Daryl Dixon was a mystery to him. He knew he was the little brother of that _crazy_ - _racist-misogynistic-asshole_ that he had handcuffed to the rooftop of that department store, but there was something odd about him. Where Merle had used _I_ and _me_ , Daryl used _us_. It wasn’t much and most would have surely overlooked something so small, but law enforcement taught him that _nothing_ should _ever_ be tossed aside no matter how insignificant it may initially seem.

The search for Merle turned out to be a fruitless endeavor, as did the group’s return to Atlanta. Knowing the world, not just Georgia or the States, belonged to the dead now was petrifying. There was nothing left of the Old World and no hope of some untouched country coming to the rescue. While the others thought he had kept the information that they were all infected with the virus a secret just because he could, he really did it because he cared enough for them to not want to inflict even a modicum of the terror he felt when he obtained that revelation from Jenner.

It was around a month after they were chased off Hershel’s farm by a herd of walkers that he began noticing Daryl acting strangely around him. There were times when Daryl would start a conversation to only clam up when Rick became engaged in the topic, or he would follow him in perimeter checks of wherever they were staying and then seem shocked when Rick paid attention to him. He didn’t quite know what to make of it until one night.

_These storage units are a bust, Rick thought disgustedly as he sat on the roof of the row of units they were currently calling home. Cold as hell, not to mention unwelcoming. Why can’t I do better by these people? They deserve better than some storage units to lock themselves in at night. There has to be a place where we can fortify, but where the fuck is it!?_

_“Hey.”_

_“Hey,” he responded as Daryl sat down beside him, dangling his legs over the edge of the roof. “Can’t sleep?”_

_“Bored.”_

_A silence settled between them that Rick was becoming intimately acquainted with. Daryl didn’t talk much, but he made for good company. Those seemed to be mutually exclusive concepts; however, Daryl found a way to make it work. He began to look forward to these silences, if for no other reason than they were not the malignant ones that Lori gave him._

_“Why don’t ya tell ’em the truth about Shane?”_

_That... came out of nowhere. “Excuse me?”_

_“Shane. Why don’t ya tell ’em?”_

_“Tell them what?”_

_“How ya really feel about killin’ him.”_

_The lie is easier to believe._

_“I don’t know what yer talkin’ about.”_

_“I ain’t stupid,” Daryl replied somewhat forcefully. “I see what it’s done ta ya.”_

_Rick began to wonder where he was going with this. “What do you want me to say, Daryl?”_

_“Shane would still be alive if he didn’t do what he did. He forced yer hand. If ya really wanted him dead, ya woulda done it that day when he attacked ya and ya had ta bring Randal back. It’s eatin’ you up inside, what ya did. That’s why you’ve been cold.”_

_He was basically talking to a brick wall at this point for all the effect his words were seemingly not having, but Rick was listening carefully to every word. Daryl didn’t speak often and when he did, it was always for a purpose. Rick wanted to know his purpose._

_“It’s all because of that Machiavelli thing, right? It’s better fer a leader to be feared than loved. You want them scared of ya so they listen. That’s why you’re not tellin’ ‘em.”_

_What the hell? Rick wondered in shock. Not only is he the only one to piece that all together, but he’s read Machiavelli? I didn’t even know that concept was his. A redneck who’s read Machiavelli. Not often you come across one of those. How intelligent is Daryl? All of Machiavelli’s work is classical. Far from being a light read. I knew he wasn’t stupid, but how smart is he?_

_“You’ve read Machiavelli?”_

_The look Daryl got at first broadcast that he knew Rick was avoiding the real issue at hand, but then morphed into righteous incredulity. “I told ya, I ain’t stupid! I’m not fuckin’ illiterate.”_

_“I never said you were. Isn’t he a handful to read, though?”_

_“Nah, The Prince ain’t that bad.”_

_“Did you make a habit of reading classical pieces?”_

_“I just read whatever was in the library.”_

_“You enjoy reading,” Rick said with a smile. Picturing Daryl sitting down to read was bizarre enough, but knowing that it was something he loved doing was harder to manage._

_The night sky was oppressively dark, but the candle burning between them betrayed the blush on Daryl’s face as he shrugged. Rick thought it was charming._

_“What’s the biggest book you ever read?”_

_“Gone with the Wind. Thousand some odd pages.”_

_Rick chuckled at that answer. Of all the books he could picture Daryl reading, that was not one of them. “You’ve read Gone with the Wind?”_

_“Don’t gimme that look. I don’t know why everybody thinks that book’s a damn romance novel.”_

_“It’s not?”_

_“No, it’s a tragedy. Rhett’s barely in the fuckin’ thing.”_

_I just got my ass handed to me by Daryl Dixon on literature of all fucking things. He’s defensive of that book. Why? Is it a macho thing, or something deeper? What would possess him to read it in the first place? I always thought it was a romance. Isn’t it? Scarlett and Rhett. Or is that just something else history has labeled incorrectly?_

_“What’s your favorite book?”_

_“Twilight.”_

_His reply caught Rick off guard and caused him to spit out the sip of water he had in his mouth. The laugh that escaped his throat startled him. It felt foreign to him to laugh; it had been so long since he had done so. What Daryl said truly hadn’t been that funny - maybe it was his timing – but Rick’s body ran with it and he laughed until he cried and his sides ached. Through his tears, he glanced at the source of his small reprieve from reality._

_Why does he look confused? Okay, what he said really wasn’t that funny, but is it that hard to believe he made me laugh? Now he’s laughing, or chuckling at least. Interesting sound. More like the illegitimate love child of a scoff and the expulsion of air, but that was definitely a laugh. He’s doing that thing again where he puts the back of his hand to his lips and rolls his wrist. Nervous twitch? Why would he stifle his own laughter? It’s cute. He should laugh more often._

_After Rick recovered from his laughing spell, he nudged Daryl’s arm in thanks. He felt better now that he had laughed. Lighter somehow._

_“No, really. What’s your favorite book?”_

_“Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Unreliable narrator. Ne’er read anything like it.”_

_Rick had only seen the movie – with Shane – once, but if the movie was anything like the book he could imagine Daryl reading it. He was ready to let the conversation drop, until Daryl spoke up._

_“You?”_

_“Never read much, but I did like Tolkien.”_

_“Lord of the Rings?”_

_“Yeah, can’t say I sat around reading 16 th century works on the regular like you did.”_

_“I also read Harry Potter if it makes ya feel any better.”_

_Another laugh. Daryl really was doing wonders for his heavy heart. “Since I never read those neither, no, it actually doesn’t make me feel any better.”_

_Daryl left five minutes later, but Rick still felt his presence after he departed. It bothered him that they had been surviving alongside each other for months and he knew next to nothing about the man. This had been the most they said to each other in one sitting and Rick felt like he was scrambling to retain every new detail from the conversation as if they were fireflies to be trapped in a jar._

_Barely ever talks and he was talking to me. Why? He said he was bored. Wouldn’t explain why he started a conversation about my feelings of all things. Said Shane’s death was weighing on me. He’s concerned. Why? Because I’m the leader? No, too shallow a reason. Mentioned Machiavelli. Who the hell reads Machiavelli just because it’s there!? Smart, but how smart? Enjoys classics. How the hell was I to know Gone with the Wind wasn’t a romance? Doesn’t everybody think it’s one? What’s its meaning to him? Favorite book is Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Asked what mine was. Why would he do that? Oh._

_He wants to know me._

_It wasn’t until the end of his watch that he remembered he thought Daryl’s laugh was cute._

After that night, Rick began actively pursuing a friendship with Daryl with a ferocity that he couldn’t begin to explain to himself. It was as if something in him had been ignited and the more he attempted to put it out, his efforts just fanned the flames. Not to say that Daryl minded his new found interest in him; in fact, he seemed to encourage it. When he saw that Rick was giving him more attention, he started offering his opinion more freely and Rick liked knowing what Daryl’s thoughts were. _They were interesting_. It was around the six month point of Lori’s pregnancy and they were running deathly low on food that Daryl proposed he go on a hunting trip... and that he take Rick with him. Rick contemplated telling him no – _I should stay with the group_ – but the prospect of spending an extended amount of time with the enigmatic hunter was too intriguing an opportunity to pass up.

_“What are they?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“Have ya paid attention ta a damn I word I say?”_

_“You’ve been doing this shit since you were in diapers,” Rick irritably retorted. “I’ve been doing this five whole minutes. Give me a fuckin’ break.”_

_Daryl was apparently in a magnanimous mood. He placed a hand on Rick’s forearm and pulled him down into a crouch beside him. “Look closely. Small prints. Dirt kicked up behind ‘em. What’s that mean?”_

_“Quick,” he replied automatically. Daryl hadn’t let go of his hold on his arm and it was distracting him._

_How is he so warm? Calloused hands. Gentle yet firm. I feel funny. Itchy. Am I getting sick? Maybe we should head back._

_“Keep goin’.”_

_“Um,” Rick started as he adjusted the crossbow slung across his back. Why Daryl was insisting on teaching him tracking AND how to shoot the crossbow in the same trip was beyond him. “Small and quick. Prints close together, almost non-distinctive. Squirrel?”_

_Daryl’s small smile made his mind feel fuzzy. “Got it. Lead the way.”_

_Rick rose from his kneel and started following the tracks. It was ten minutes later when he found his target scaling a tree. He knew Daryl had most likely already seen it, but he pointed to it anyway._

_“There.”_

_“Yup.”_

_Silence. Shouldn’t he be doing something about that? Killing it maybe? Why is he looking at me like I’m an idiot?_

_“Well?”_

_“Well what?”_

_The eye roll Daryl gave him expressed every level of how stupid he thought Rick was at the moment. Rick wanted to punch him for it. “Ain’t ya gonna do somethin’ about it?”_

_He can’t be serious._

_“Oh, no. That’s all on you,” Rick said as he anxiously removed the crossbow from his back and tried to shove it back into its owner’s arms. Said owner didn’t move a muscle._

_“How else ya gonna learn? Take aim.”_

_“Do you want our people to starve? Heartless.”_

_“Do it, Rick,” Daryl said with a firmness to his voice that Rick hadn’t heard before._

_With no other choice, Rick raised the crossbow and set his sight on the squirrel sitting obliviously in the tree. As he was about to shoot, he felt Daryl come up behind him and place his hands on his hips. He tweaked them into a more acceptable position and then moved his arms to adjust Rick’s hold on the weapon, keeping his arms in place. It wasn’t until he whispered in his ear that he registered how close they were._

_“Pull the trigger.”_

_Rick pulled the trigger and watched the squirrel die from the bolt piercing its body._

_Rick felt Daryl slap his stomach in victory before making his way to their meal._

_Rick cataloged all this as if he were on the outside looking in._

_Itchy? ITCHY!? I’m not ITCHY! I’m AROUSED! Holy shit! What the fuck is WRONG with me!? I – I WANT Daryl!? No! There is no way I want him! No. He’s straight. Right? Why am I thinking about his sexuality!? It won’t make a difference one way or another. I’m not sleeping with him. Ever. Oh Lord. I’m HARD!? This is bad. This can’t be happening. Did he really have to bend over to pick up that fucking squirrel? Probably. It is on the ground. Don’t care. He shouldn’t have done that. Isn’t it bad manners to bend over in front of your friend who wants to fuck you? He wouldn’t care about manners. He’s a wild man. Wild............... NO! Get yourself together, Grimes!_

_Rick wished he could trade places with the dead squirrel._

All it took was that one hunting excursion for a swarm of sexual fantasies to descend upon his conscious thoughts like the locusts of the eighth plague of Egypt. It was disconcerting and Rick had no idea what to do with this – _whatever it is_ – that he felt for the man who had made a meteoric rise from outcast to second-in-command in a matter of weeks. Daryl was a captivating, dynamic individual and Rick didn’t know where to begin with sussing out why his interest had suddenly taken a one hundred and eighty degree turn from friendly intrigue to patently sexual. The last time he felt so strongly about wanting someone, he married them and he didn’t even want to touch on what that could imply.

Lori’s cold shoulder soon gave way to an unprecedented level of approval. She backed all of his decisions, stayed quiet when she didn’t, and attempted to start speaking to him again. The change of heart had seemingly occurred overnight and it didn’t sit right with Rick. Rather than warming him, it made his skin feel as if thousands of scorpions were crawling beneath the surface waiting for the opportune moment to sting. It seemed artificial, forced in a way that he was all too familiar with. So many times in his life had he seemed approving when under the surface he was boiling over with rage.

Not to say that he blamed Lori for what she was doing. Dysfunction in the group would serve no point, except a bad one, and he was willing to take her olive branch to keep the group as stable as possible. He knew the tentative reconciliation made Carl feel better and the uncomfortable energy that surrounded the three of them started to dissipate. While the compromise made social matters between them tolerable, it did nothing to detract from the physical.

The baby growing inside of Lori was beginning to dominate her appearance and as the days ticked by, it became harder and harder to look at her. Rick had been beside himself when Carl was conceived. Hardly a time passed when he walked past Lori and did not gently stroked her steadily expanding stomach or press his face to the bump in the hope of feeling Carl move. No such impulses were coming to him now. He wasn’t repulsed by the baby itself, but by the knowledge that the baby was most likely Shane’s. That was supposed to be _his_ baby altering his wife’s physique and knowing that it wasn’t was more painful than the bullet Shane never had the opportunity to fire into his body.

Matters came to a head one night when Lori suggestively stroked his hand and suggested that they should “talk” once the others went to sleep in the house they were currently holed up in. Rick filled with dread at the possibility of seeing her naked belly exposed and his rebuke came too swiftly to be written off as simple disinterest. The thunderous expression she cast him over her shoulder as she walked towards the room they claimed as theirs would have the power to kill him in another universe. In order to avoid a poisonous sleep beside her, he took the first watch.

Rick took the occasion to ruminate on his sexual impulses as of late. His blood didn’t pump desire through him at the sight of his wife; only disappointment and a deep-seated sorrow that was carving a canyon through the person he once was. If his mind wasn’t so preoccupied by thoughts of survival, he knew a profound depression would be consuming him. Touching Lori only sparked feelings of failure and regret that left no room for sexual want.

Daryl was a different issue entirely. He vaguely felt that he should feel guilty for wanting the hunter so much in light of having a pregnant wife, but no such guilt manifested. _It’s not as if I’m falling in love with him... right?_ Rick convinced himself that his intense and unparalleled interest was the byproduct of the extremely sexual nature of his regard. He briefly considered giving these sexual urges free-reign of his mind, but Daryl came out of the house (the man seemed to have developed a homing system for when Rick was upset) and wordlessly motioned for him to follow him down into the front yard where he demonstrated how to make a couple of beginners snares.

Stumbling across the prison a few months later was a godsend. He never let it show, but Rick was starting to lose faith that he would find them a place they could call their own, to settle down and build a life together. Being a police officer, he could appreciate the astounding amounts of irony that presented itself when he broke into a prison. Living in a prison held no appeal in terms of aesthetics, but the thick concrete walls, iron bars, and barbed-wire fences were a sight to behold in the wake of the human race’s extinction event.

The altercation with the prisoners reinforced Rick’s belief that the world-at-large was not to be trusted. Those men had never been on the outside, seen and experienced the horror of what now awaited on the other side of the fences. They walked as if it were only natural that they were still breathing and they had every right to it. The sheer _badness_ of them bent and irritated him and he was happy to wash his hands of them - _well, two of them_ – after taking half their food supply. It was while he organized and took count of the food in the allotted storage room down the hall from the library that he received the shock of his life.

_“But you are in love. I know it.”_

_“Don’t matter.”_

_“But it does! Daryl, you’re a wonderful person and anybody would be lucky to have you love them. I know it sounds terrifying but you have to tell them that - ”_

_“I can’t!”_

_"_ _Yes, you can!”_

_“You don’t get it! I can’t tell hi -”_

Rick’s jaw dropped when he heard Daryl admit to Maggie, without outright admitting, that he was in love. The man was as stoic as ever, albeit more friendly in that he smiled and joined in group discussions more often, but to hear that he was _in_ love was completely unexpected. It wasn’t to say that Rick didn’t believe he was capable of the more tender emotions, he knew he was, it was just that he believed if Daryl ever did feel that way about someone, he would be awkward as a newborn colt going about it considering how difficult he seemed to find making friends.

_Who the hell is it!? Rick contemplated angrily. Who did Daryl fall in love with!? It’s not Carol. Good. I’m glad it’s not Carol. She still resents me, I can tell. But then WHO!? And why the fuck am I so angry about it? It’s not my place to be angry. Is it? I have a pregnant wife and kid to worry about. Why am I so goddamn concerned about him being in love? It doesn’t make an ounce of difference to me. But wouldn’t he tell me? I thought we were friends. That’s the kind of thing friends tell each other. Not necessarily, I guess. He doesn’t know I want to fuck him six ways to Sunda-..................................................................._

_It’s me._

_He’s in love with me. Dear God. Daryl is in love WITH ME! OH! I shouldn’t be excited about that. Why am I so excited about that!? I shouldn’t be, but I am. It has to be me. Right? I’m the only one he’s close to, whose company he seeks. And he was different towards me after we left Hershel’s farm. Maybe that’s when it happened? Started? When he realized it? Who knows. He does. I need to know for sure if it’s me. He obviously won’t tell me. I’ll just have to watch him more closely. Daryl probably feels awkward now. Hates talking about emotions. I’ll get him out of here. Take him on a run. Maybe beating some shit up will make him feel better._

Running to the nearby pharmacy the next day proved to be as great an idea as invading Russia in winter. He nearly died when he was cornered by walkers and scared the bejesus out of Daryl in the process. The only bright spot of the run was that he got the confirmation that he wanted. Daryl was, indeed, in love with him. His fear at seeing him cornered and the thorough way he checked him for bites after was telling enough of that fact. The only issue was that Rick had no idea what to do with this new information. It wasn’t as if he could act on it – _could he?_ – but he could not ignore it either. Daryl being in love with him stoked something that Rick had long thought dead inside him – _passion_.

He wanted to taste him. Feel him writhe around him knowing he was the one who cracked that hard shell and made him feel infinitely alive. Grasp his hips to pull him closer in the vain hope that they would fuse together. Kiss that ambivalent mask off his face once and for all. Clutch the globes of that well formed ass which was constantly concealed in ill-fitting jeans. Stroke his face to commit to memory every facet of that strange, but alluring visage.

But alas, time was the mortal enemy of anything in this dead, decaying world. Not a week had passed after the pharmacy run when blaring sirens rang out in the prison grounds beckoning with it the deaths of T-Dog, Carol... and Lori.

_LORIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!................................?_

_I’ll find you. I will. But where are you, Love? Where are you? I know you’re here. He, that, that THING ate you. He ate you, Lori. I killed all the other ones to find you. I killed this one for eating you. Yes, yes I know he’s dead already but I killed him dead this time. Isn’t that what you want? Lori. Don’t you want these things dead, Lori? I killed it. I killed it. I killed it._

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

_Why are people calling me, Lori? Can you tell me? They can take us somewhere safe!!!! Because here isn’t. Right, Love? Because you died here. You died here. Why did you die here? This is my fault isn’t it? Of course it is. Do you blame me? Lori. LORI!!?!!!?_

_“I loved you. I loved you. I couldn’t put it back together. I couldn’t put it back together....... I thought there’d be time. There is never time. I loved you. I lo- I lo- I love you.”_

_Why do I keep saying it in the past tense, Lori? I do love you...................................right? I did. NO!!!!!!!! I DO! I do. I did. I do. Lori, do you believe me? I just, I don’t know where I am right now. Where I am? What is this? Why is my brain doing this? How did you call me, Lori? Did you want to hear my voice again? Where are you, Lori? Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?_

Emerging from the tombs, Rick pulled himself together with the aim of seeing his newborn daughter. Before Lori’s call started breaking – _she didn’t really call me.......?_ – he heard her mention the baby. He had to see her, hold her, smell that new baby smell that all babies had for at least awhile. She was beautiful and he wanted her to see the sun while in his arms. The sun was bright and the air rank with death. It painted an absurd tapestry for his and the baby’s first outing together.

The peculiar scene didn’t last long, however, due to a new arrival bearing the news of Glenn and Maggie’s abduction to Woodbury. Rick was stunned by how quickly his mind switched gears into leadership mode. He had people to save and he was relieved that the voices – _her voice_ – quieted for a time while he formulated a plan to retrieve his family.

Woodbury was proof positive of Murphy’s Law to Rick. Arriving in Woodbury, they quickly lost _whatever-the-hell-her-name-is_ and barely managed to stop Glenn and Maggie from being executed. In retrieving them though, he lost Daryl as he laid cover fire – _Shane? Shane, is that you?_ \- for them to escape. After retrieving him and his goddamn motherfucking brother Merle, he left with that walking piece of shit that called himself a human. It didn’t take long for Rick’s mind to switch back into something not quite stable and for him run after Lori’s apparition.

_LORI!!!!!!! Come back, Lori! Talk to me!_

_What do you want me to see, Lori? Is there something you want me to see? It’s dangerous out here, isn’t it? Do you want me to die? Die, go to the great beyond? If I go there I’ll lose my way. I don’t know if it’s heaven anymore, Lori. Do you want to go there? If you go there, you’re gone forever. But if we stay here we’re not together. Should we die?_

_There’s nothing out here. I see nothing out here. LORI!!!!!!!! Why do you want me out here? What is out here, Love? I did love you, I swear. I do, I do, I DO love you! DAMN IT! Why do I keep saying it as if it’s in the past? It’s not, I swear. Lori, did you love me? It didn’t seem like it in the end. You tried, you tried, you tried, but did you really love me still? It was forced. It seemed so forced, Lori. The only one who was in love with me was Daryl._

_Daryl. Daryl left me, Lori. He left me. I told him I need him and he left me. Why did he leave me, Lori? Guess he doesn’t love me after all. No, he doesn’t, Lori. He doesn’t. You don’t leave the person you love. Is that why you’re coming to me? He would never do this. He left me. Daryl left with FUCKING ARNOLD BRIXTON!!! NOOOOOOO!!!! No, it wasn’t Arnold Brixton was it, Lori? But that’s what I see when I see him. It’s him, Lori. I swear it is. I hate Arnold Brixton. NO! MERLE! I hate MERLE! I hate him so much. He took Daryl away from me. No, Daryl took Daryl way from me. He doesn’t love me. It’s a lie. It’s all a lie._

_No, Lori. He doesn’t love me. He lied. LIES!!!! Don’t tell me that, Lori. If you love him, let him go; if he comes back, he’s yours forever? No, Lori. It doesn’t work like that. He left me. He left me. He left me. He left me. Daryl doesn’t love me. He’s not coming back._

_Lori, can I go back? There’s nothing out here for me. What do you want me to see? There is nothing out here, Lori. Nothing outside the fences except death. FUCK! The Governor is here! Lori, do you see what you’ve done!?I’m going to die out here. Is that what you wanted!? Were you leading me to my death? To join you!? These walkers are going to kill me, Lori. You led me to my death. OH! What the fuck was that!?_

_OH!_

_Daryl._

Seeing Daryl in the tree line as the walker in front of him fell, Rick had an epiphany and god did he feel stupid. All those months aggressively chasing after Daryl’s friendship, all those sexual fantasies, his rage at learning he was in love until he found out it was him... he didn’t just _like_ Daryl. He _loved_ Daryl. He was _in love_ with Daryl. Clarity washed over his shredded sanity as he allowed this truth to sink into his weary bones.

_This is what she wanted me to see. She wanted me to SEE Daryl. I see him now, Lori. I see him._

Rick knew better than to protest against the livid glare painted on Daryl’s face when he signaled for them to run for the prison courtyard. Not that he wanted to. He saw what Lori wanted him to see and there was no need for him to stay outside the fences any longer. He knew full well that he wasn’t exactly stable yet, but he did feel healed in a sense. Tethered where he had felt unhinged.

Because of his epiphany, he no longer questioned why he wanted to tackle Daryl – _preferably naked_ – when he saw his shitty attempt at controlling his fury towards Glenn and himself. Daryl was unbelievably sexy when he was angry and if Rick didn’t know how volatile he was when he experienced it, he would be half tempted to invoke it for kicks occasionally.

Retaining Merle in exchange for keeping Daryl was a price that Rick was willing to pay, albeit begrudgingly. He hated him to his core. Merle’s only purpose in life was to watch the world burn and drag Daryl down with it. That didn’t speak of loyalty or love to Rick. It spoke of control and the need to have a subordinate to fulfill his every whim, which is where Rick felt their biggest difference came from. While Daryl was his second-in-command, he didn’t think of it as him raising himself above Daryl. It solidified a place of authority and command for him. He saw Daryl as his equal, not someone to be run roughshod over. In all honesty, Rick even questioned whether Merle loved Daryl at all or just felt inclined to antagonize him because he had done it his whole life. It was with no small amount of satisfaction that Rick locked him in a cell for the night.

Taking Carl and Michonne – _so that’s her name_ – on a run was a way for them to both prove that they were ready for more responsibility. For Carl, it was a way to see if he could handle going on runs and for Michonne, if she could actually play well with others. What Rick didn’t count on was seeing Morgan in such a degree of mental degradation. Morgan was insane and Rick knew what that looked and felt like and that he couldn’t go back to that. He tried to put the whole unfortunate incident behind him with the knowledge that yes, the insane do know that they are insane and that if you try hard enough, maybe, just maybe, you can come back from it.

Grabbing the unused crossbow and bolts was Rick’s first conscious attempt at courting Daryl. He laughed as he cringed inwardly at the wording, but there was no other way around it. Rick knew that this was the Daryl-version of taking a girl flowers and he prayed it would work. Now was the time, because there is no time, to start trying to get Daryl to confess how he felt. Not because Rick didn’t want to first, he did, but he knew that this was the way it had to be.

Daryl would never believe Rick if he confessed his love for him first and that sent a sharp jolt of sorrow through him. The man obviously didn’t have kids or a significant other before The Turn and if his way around people was any indication, had probably never been in a serious relationship. Daryl had likely never been in love before, nor anyone with him. Rick was resolute to ensure that Daryl never felt as if his love was unrequited and to one day, hopefully soon, get him comfortable enough to say how he felt so he could return the sentiment.

All prayers for Daryl to melt into a puddle of happiness at the sight of a new crossbow died a slow painful death when Daryl decided to instead pay attention to the stab wound on his upper chest. The man was still irked with him for his so-called “stunt” and the sight of the wound seemed to bring that latent irritation back to a bubble. All pleas of “Hey look! A new crossbow!” were promptly shut down with a “Shut the fuck up and tell me what happened!” It took approximately half an hour to convince him to not go back and kill Morgan for stabbing him. Rick felt that his first foray into wooing the tetchy hunter bombed, but he did revel in how endearing Daryl was when he was protective of him.

Months later with The Governor dispatched and the Woodbury people moved in, Rick decided to seize the day and become more blatant with his advances on Daryl. It was beginning to chafe on the fallen leader that Daryl still _didn’t fucking understand_ when he was getting hit on or he was that much in denial of Rick having an attraction equal to his own. There were only so many times a man could walk around shirtless, give a lingering once over, an affection kiss to a temple, or stretch in an obscene manner after a work day before the object of affection _finally fucking got it_ that they were being presumed upon.

Fuck it, Rick Grimes was _pissed_. Daryl Dixon deserved a gold medal in self-delusion if he didn’t think that Rick saw the way his hungry eyes took him in when he was especially dirty from working in his crops and would magically “disappear” for an indeterminate amount of time before returning unable to hold eye contact. It was ridiculous. Rick knew Daryl was in love with him and he was in love with him in return, but what else was there for him to do!?

_The night air was humid and sticky from the earlier storm. Rainfall seemed to be one of the few things that neutralized the stench of death from the air, at least for a little while. It was times like these that Rick didn’t mind taking over watch in the guard tower to be alone and think._

_A loud clink from inside the glass enclosure behind him alerted Rick that he had a visitor. He smiled as he continued to lean against the guardrail watching the walkers claw at the fences._

_“Ya mind?”_

_Still timid, Rick thought solemnly. Doesn’t he know that my version of alone can expand to include him?_

_“’Course not.”_

_Daryl stood beside him not but a few inches away. Rick was honored and held a certain pride in knowing that he was one of the few people that Daryl didn’t mind standing close to. While the closeness they had mentally was far more important, Rick enjoyed knowing that it translated into the physical realm._

_“Ya know they should all be dead by now,” Daryl remarked, having followed Rick’s gaze._

_“They are dead,” Rick snorted humorlessly._

_“I mean dead dead. Unable ta move.”_

_“Why’s that?”_

_“Decomp. That first summer after all this happened was a brutal one. Heat and humidity speed up decomp. If they were decomposing at a normal rate, the first wave of ‘em coulda been taken out after tha first two months.”_

_Fucking hell, really? These things are worse than cockroaches._

_“Then why aren’t they dead?”_

_“Prolly the virus. Somethin’ about it is slowin’ down tha decomp rate to a tenth or even a twentieth tha normal rate.”_

_Rick turned to Daryl with naked admiration and awe in his eyes that he had long ago given up wanting to hide. “Has anybody ever told you how smart you are?”_

_Daryl did that thing where he rolls the back of his wrist against his mouth. Rick already figured out it was a nervous twitch. “Ain’t nothin’ special. Just somethin’ I picked up huntin’ animals is all.”_

_“It is special. You are incredibly smart, Daryl.”_

_“Ya coulda figured it out just fine by yerself if ya just sat down and thought about it fer a damn minute.”_

_“No, I wouldn’t have,” Rick said as he reached out and grabbed Daryl’s arm. The hard muscle under the skin shifted as he lightly squeezed it reassuringly. “You know, I’d tell you every goddamn day you were smart if I thought you’d ever believe me.”_

_Trailing his fingers down the length of his arm, he heard Daryl’s breathing hitch as he encircled his wrist with his hand. His index and middle fingers were resting on the pulse point and it was impossibly high. Looking up, he connected with Daryl’s eyes to wordlessly tell him everything he needed to know._

_I love you. God help me, I love you. Why do you refuse to see it? I need you to see, Daryl. I want you to. Everything I’ve done and you still don’t see. I find you as mentally stimulating as you are physically. I make passes at you so you know I want you sexually. I’m affectionate so you know it’s not only sex I crave from you. I tease you so you laugh. I planted carrots because you said you like them. What more do I have to do, Daryl? Compose a sonnet about the blue of your eyes and the flecks of gold around your pupil that shine if the sun lands just right on them? FUCK! Daryl!!! Can’t you SEE!? I love you and I know you love me! Why can’t you say it!? Three minuscule words. You don’t believe me when I give small compliments. You’ll never believe me if I say those words first, but isn’t this as good as telling you it’s okay? I know you’re reading all this. Make a move. Say something. I’ll never turn you away._

_Moments expanded and stretched between them as the intimacy of the situation encapsulated them in an impenetrable bubble. Daryl’s pulse never slowed, his breathing stayed shallow, and his expressive eyes stayed zeroed in on Rick’s. The fingers of his free hand twitched in Rick’s direction, daring to reach out and touch him. For them, time was no longer a universal constant, but a variable which was dictated by the flow of blood pumping into Daryl’s heart and out into every capillary._

_When Daryl’s traitorous fingers closed into a fist and he looked away, Rick knew which path he was going to take._

_“I gotta go,” Daryl stated as he basically ran for the door back into the tower._

_“You do that,” Rick replied in a tone so cold that it was approaching absolute zero._

_As a child, Rick had been taken by his mother to a public swimming pool during an uneventful summer afternoon. Wanting to be like the other boys who were showing off, he decided to do a belly flop off of the diving board to prove he was tougher. Impacting with the water, he felt a pain so severe over his face and chest that he cried out while in the water causing it to flood into his mouth and throat._

_Rick wished he could inform the ten year-old him that he knew nothing about being in pain._

_He watched Daryl kill walkers through the fence for a solid hour with a detachment so complete that he did not once think of his own name._

After that night, Rick still pursued Daryl, but his heart was no longer in it. If the man could walk away from a moment as charged and electric as that one, what hope was there that he would respond to anything else? They remained as close and affectionate as they had become in the months after chasing The Governor off, but Rick felt a sense of resignation that the love him and Daryl shared would go unspoken. Perhaps it would die off eventually and be replaced by friendly fondness. One could only hope.

What died instead of his love was the man himself. _But aren’t those the same thing?_ No more Daryl. No more Hershel. No more Judith. No more anyone. Carl hated him. His body screamed in agony with every step and he mind felt as if it were frying itself. Too much was happening too fast and he couldn’t stop feeling as if he had sealed everyone’s fate all those months ago when he infiltrated Woodbury to retrieve Glenn and Maggie. Everything in his body told him that what life he had left would be haunted by the ghosts of his regrets. Before his body crashed from physical and mental exhaustion he felt as if his conscious had transmogrified into water, pouring forth from a faucet and down a drain. The shadow hovering over the sink looked suspiciously like Daryl’s.

Waking from his coma, he was determined to not wallow around and feel sorry for himself. He had a son to take care of, damn it! And he wasn’t going to allow his mind to collapse now when he needed it most. Michonne’s arrival was a welcomed one, unlike her first time, and Rick couldn’t help but hope that if she had made it out, maybe others did too. Sending Michonne and Carl out for supplies while he underwent bed rest, Michonne’s orders, he decided to read to pass the time. The master bedroom had a small bookcase filled with a variety of cheap paperbacks. Rick chose _Selected Short Stories_ by Jack London because he could have sworn he had heard the name before. Maybe from Daryl. He fell asleep three pages into _To Build a Fire._

Because the universe apparently hated him, his sleep was interrupted by a group of thugs who thought it was okay to knock one of their own unconscious to take the bed they had been napping on. As he hid from them, he heard their conversations pertaining to who might be staying in the house and who “claimed the woman” when they returned. No way was he letting them come anywhere near his family and he was thankful to escape the house relatively unscathed. The death of the man in the bathroom never entered a passing thought.

Making their way to Terminus was a logical choice. If they were able to take in survivors, they had to be solvent when it came to food and they desperately needed access to such a supply. They were all hungry and Carl and Michonne’s supply run had only turned up so much food and his snares were not capable of catching big game. Whatever system Terminus had in place, it had to be a good one. Perhaps some prison survivors made it there as well.

Progress to Terminus was interrupted by the same men he had encountered in the house now seeking vengeance for their deceased comrade. As they were surrounded by the scum of the earth and they began counting down to their execution, Daryl emerged from the shadows.

_No._

_No. Fucking. Way. He’s alive!? And with these motherfuckers!? What the hell happened, Daryl? You would never be with these things unless something happened. Not to mention you were hunting me. There is a profound sense of irony lurking around the edges of that one but not even my black sense of humor will go there._

_Oh, yeah Daryl. Great idea. Offer your life for ours. I’m sure that’ll work on these invertebrates. You’re so goddamn stupid, Daryl!!!! Getting yourself killed within thirty seconds of finding me! What the fuck is your problem!?_

At the sight of Daryl being steadily beaten to death, Michonne with a gun to her head, and Carl about to be raped, Rick saw red and blacked out. The result of his mind reverting back to instincts which were scarcely drawn upon since homo-sapien’s ancestors crawled out of the primordial ooze they gestated in was the body of a ringleader missing his throat and a man mutilated beyond recognition. Rick wanted to feel an iota of shame for the level of viciousness that he exhibited, but he didn’t and as he talked to Daryl – _Daryl_ – he realized it didn’t matter. He was who he was and he had to accept that there were times when his flesh would match the madness within. Rick felt it was odd that a reemergence by Daryl always seemed to summon with it a moment of self-actualization.

Rick registered at some point that Daryl was doing the Daryl-equivalent of rambling and he needed to stop him. Daryl didn’t belong with that group, he knew that, and Daryl apologizing for being with them served no purpose. _Doesn't he know this was worth it to get him back?_ He may have been _with_ them but he wasn’t _one of them_. He knew his heart and he was not capable of the same level of brutality as those men. Briefly he contemplated confessing his love, fuck the consequences, but he couldn’t. If it were possible, Daryl would be in even more denial of it now than before, but he had to give him something.

_“You’re my brother.”_

Calling Daryl his brother was the closest that Rick dared to express his love for him. In the Old World, he knew that they were not likely to meet and if they ever did it would probably be because he had arrested Merle and Daryl was bailing him out of jail. But in this New World, their bond was forged in fire. They need each other, plain and simple, and there was no better way of saying that.

After the narrow escape from Terminus with most of his family, Rick needed to formulate a plan to take them out. They were not only a threat to them, but to all survivors who ventured near their settlement. A small neighborhood was close by and Rick chose a house for them to stay in for the time being while they took stock of what they had and what they needed.

_The full moon was casting an otherworldly glow over the street as Rick stood on the walkway leading to the house his family was currently organizing supplies in. Not a walker was in sight and it unsettled him. Walkers were a regular sight and sound and not having them to concern himself with at the moment did nothing to sooth his frayed nerves. Those Terminus people needed to be vanquished, but he was hesitant to lose more of his own. It would never cease to amaze him what kind of people this New World created._

_“I don’t trust him,” Rick declared into the night as he felt the expected presence beside him._

_“No? Ya don’t believe in our resident savior?”_

_Looking out of the corner of his eye, he saw Daryl returning his glance and they started sniggering together._

_“Definitely not,” Rick chuckled. “I wonder why Abraham does. He’s practically a zealot.”_

_“Said he saw Eugene workin’ in the labs in Texas before they lost communication with Alexandria. He has no reason ta doubt him.”_

_“Well I do.”_

_“And what’s that?”_

_“He has a mullet. Never trust a man who willingly has a mullet.”_

_Daryl’s bark of laughter rang out and Rick was shocked to see that he no longer covered his own mouth to stifle it. It was a sweet sound, but the way it transformed his face was sweeter. He looked younger and happier than he had ever seen him. Rick wanted to see that more often._

_“I’ll take first watch. You go get some sleep.”_

_“Come get me if ya get tired,” Daryl responded as he turned around and made his way back towards the house._

_Hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go._

_Half way back up the walk, a mangy black cat made a break for it from behind an overgrown hedge by running in front of Daryl. The sudden movement caused him to recoil and his heel to catch on the edge of the pavement slab. Falling gracelessly on his back, he landed with a quiet “oomph” on the ground. Rick loved that he had the look of a sullen teenager in his embarrassment._

_Grasping his hand, he pulled him up from the ground and into standing position well within his personal space. Noticing Daryl’s hair was a disordered mess from the fall, Rick threw caution to the wind and decided to fix it for him._

_Someone with such a hard exterior should not have hair so soft. Flows through my fingers like silk._

_Pushing the hair off his forehead and tucking the rest behind his ears, Rick dropped his hands so one rested on the junction between neck and shoulder with the other cupping the side of his face. Daryl leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. A moment of serenity passed between them before Daryl mumbled a throaty “goodnight” and went back inside._

_A chill passed over Rick as he sat on the porch steps._

_I am so fucked._

~~~

The sprawling estate standing proud before them was punctuated by a plantation style mansion so large, Rick wondered how many times his old house would fit into it. To think that this level of decadence was almost commonplace before The Turn appalled him when it was now a struggle to survive one day to the next.

_Champagne wishes and caviar dreams no more. Owner probably died defending himself with a bottle of Dom Perignon._

“Think it’s safe?” Michonne asked behind him.

“Only one way to find out.”

Rick began climbing the ornate wrought iron gates that barred them from entrance to the grounds. Landing on the lattice patterned cobblestone driveway – _un-fucking-believable_ – he held his hands out to take Judith and five-month old Lucy since they were still small enough to fit through a portion of the gate’s design. Bags started falling down around him as the others threw over supplies before their own climb. Rick occupied himself by playing with the squirming infant in his arms who had taken an interest in slapping his face.

“I’m starting to think she likes you more than me,” Glenn laughed as he took back his wiggling daughter while she attempted to get one last hit on Rick’s nose.

“Last I checked, slapping someone’s face wasn’t an expression of love.”

“For her it is! Isn’t that right, Lucy? You love your uncle, huh?” Glenn cooed as Lucy slapped him. “See! She slaps people she loves!”

“Then she must _really_ love Daryl. She goes after his face with all four limbs at once.”

“Shut up, Carl,” Daryl quipped as Judith disengaged from her gasp on her father’s leg and waddled towards him. He picked her up with a practiced ease.

_Judith may be mine, but she really is everyone’s child, isn’t she? It takes a village, right?_

The walk up the drive took two minutes which, in Rick’s book, made it the longest driveway in history. The house held a charm for him though. Obviously updated, but of classic design with wrap around terraces, green shutters framing the windows, and a red door all speaking of something older and more traditional than any of them were familiar with. It may be a behemoth, but he saw its appeal.

What made the house most desirable though was its placement to the ocean. The property bordered on it, private beach and all, and was well guarded by walls that had once equaled privacy, but now meant security. Even the back that was along the beach was gated off. It gave him hope that there would be no walkers inside the grounds or, at the most, only the family that had once called this place home.

“Michonne, take the downstairs with Daryl and Glenn. Tyreese, you’re with me and Abraham. Old houses like this used to have attics and or basements so take Carl with you to find them, Sasha. Carol, inspect the kitchen for food after it’s cleared. Maggie and Beth, you stay with the little ones in the foyer. If anyone yells get out, get out.”

“I’m pretty sure Beth - ”

_Not this again._

“Don’t start on this again, Maggie,” Rick chastised. He was tired of having this argument with her. He admired her spirit, but not her resolve. Giving birth to Lucy had taken a toll on Maggie and he was not willing to risk her now that she was starting to recover.

“You’re gonna have to give this up some day.”

_Yes. But not today._

“Meet back in the foyer once you're done clearing your area. Let’s go.”

_And I thought this house was big from the outside. This place is fucking huge. How many bedrooms does one family need!? Good Lord. Half of my old house could fit in the master suit. I’m fairly certain someone could train for a swim across the English Channel in the bathtub. At least the furniture is tasteful. Furniture runs the risk of being garish in houses like this. Gorgeous views of the ocean. No walkers in sight. Feels odd. What happened to this family? Why wouldn’t they try to hold out here? Maybe they’re downstairs._

“Anything?” Rick asked as he approached the group that had already formed in the foyer.

“Nothin’.”

“Lots of canned food in the kitchen, which, by the way, puts my old one to shame.”

“I’m pretty sure this house puts anything any of us had to shame.”

“I didn’t find any walkers, but I did find something interesting,” Michonne offered.

Carl didn’t miss a beat. “First issue of Superman?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll find something you’ll like in there,” she replied fondly. “We should all check it out.”

Everyone followed as Michonne led them down a hallway towards the front of the house. The sun was starting to set, but the layout capitalized on its facing direction and the house was flooded with what light the setting sun still provided. It painted the walls orange and yellow. With a little too much showmanship, Michonne opened the door at the end of the hall.

“Well fuck me sideways!” Abraham laughed as he stepped inside. “I thought people only had a private library in movies.”

The two-story library was massive and its collection extensive. The mahogany paneling and leather seats gave the room an atmosphere of relaxed luxury. It still smelled of old books and everybody seemed to enjoy the smell if their collective inhale was to be interpreted correctly.

“Now what is this?” Maggie said quietly to no one in particular before running over to Glenn and dramatically draping an arm across her forehead while holding a thick book in the other. “Oh Rhett! Where shall I go? What shall I do!?”

Glenn rose to the bait and held Maggie in his arms as she “swooned.” “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!”

_Overdramatic lovebirds. At least everyone’s getting a kick out of them. Judy and Lucy are even laughing. I guess Lucy could just be gurgling, but I’m going to pretend its laughter. Laughter is good for all of us. We need it._

“Ya know he don’t say it like that in tha book, right?”

_Oh. OH! He’s read it. I remember him saying something about that. Not a romance according to him._

“I – what?” Glenn uttered sounding totally confused.

He wasn’t the only one. All eyes in the room were trained on Daryl, all sporting varying degrees of bewilderment. Daryl shifted awkwardly on his feet, never having been one to like being the center of attention, but he repeated himself.

“Rhett. He don’t say it like that.”

“How does he say it?” Carol probed, evidently curious since his comment seemed to come out of nowhere.

“Sad. He’s leavin’ her and he ain’t happy about it.”

Tyreese’s turn to be baffled. “ _You’ve_ read Gone with the Wind?”

“Mmhmm.”

“ _Why_?” Beth asked as she cradled Judith and Lucy in her lap.

“Listen, that book ain’t what ya think it is. No romance novel would end like that.”

_Tragedy. He said it’s a tragedy._

“Why isn’t it a romance, Daryl?”

Daryl looked at Rick after he asked his question. They shared a look acknowledging that Rick was finally asking the question he should have asked that night on the roof of the storage unit years before. Daryl looked away after that, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, but he answered.

“’Cause that book ain’t about Scarlett findin’ love, it’s about her findin’ safety. The war took everythin’ from her. It was a struggle to keep herself and her family alive and she did what she had ta do. But she was too young and she fought fer too long. She forgot how ta feel instead of just survive. At the end she had everythin’ she ever wanted, but it was too late. When Rhett left, she lost everythin’ that woulda made what she did worth it. She was alone.”

_Romance on the surface, but a completely different beast on the inside. Nobody would ever know unless they read it. Survival of the fittest. Doing anything to keep you and yours alive. That message is hitting a little too close to home for all of us. Are we just surviving or are we living? Maybe those things out there aren’t the walking dead....... WE are. We ARE the walking dead!_

The contemplative silence was broken by Sasha asking, “Then why the hell does everyone think it’s a romance!?”

“’Cause Rhett’s hot,” Daryl quipped and the humor was restored to the room once again.

Because of the library’s eclectic collection, everyone who wanted to read a book was able to find one. Maggie chose a copy of _Winnie-the-Pooh_ under the premise of reading it to Judith and Lucy before bedtime. After Lucy’s birth Glenn, Maggie, and Rick came to the mutual decision of raising the girls to recognize each other as sisters. One of the many ways this manifested was that they slept together most of the time so when determining sleeping arrangements, both girls would go with whoever’s turn it was that night. Tonight was the Rhee’s turn.

Leaving the library and making their way up the stairs, the group dispersed to start claiming rooms. Carol and Tyreese took what had formerly been a boy’s room, Glenn and Maggie a bedroom that used to belong to twin girls, and Abraham, Carl, Sasha, Beth, and Michonne each took a guest room with Sasha and Beth sharing. That left Rick with the master suit (like they always seemed to do) and Daryl with... well, Daryl hadn’t moved to claim a room yet. He just stood in the hall next to Rick nervously biting his thumb nail.

“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m going to take a dip in the ocean to get all this dirt off me,” Rick said as everybody filed back into the hall.

“Sounds like a good idea. Maggie and I’ll take the girls after,” Glenn added.

“No, I’ll take ‘em,” Rick replied as he held his arms out to take the little ones and the others argued about the order that they would go bathe in.

“And Daryl the room at the end is yours,” Beth informed him after claiming her place in the bathing order.

“Ain’t necessary.”

_I didn’t hear what I think I just heard. Did I? Is he sure?_

Rick turned to Daryl, who was now boasting a slight blush and still biting his nail, for confirmation.

_Are you sure?_

_Yes._

_I guess this is our coming out party_ , Rick thought as he turned to the group to see their reactions.

_Aaaaaaand....... no one’s surprised. Carl – Oh. Lovely. Carl’s laughing in Michonne’s face. We couldn’t have been that obvious! Were we? Apparently. I didn’t think people could actually vibrate out of their own skin, but if they can Maggie’s about to do it. Why is Michonne giving Carl a comic book? Oh my God! There were BETS on when this would happen!? That’s great. Real great, guys. At least Beth and Carol have the decency to only smile. Mutinous. My family is full of traitors._

“I’ll take first watch. Tyreese, you want second?” Abraham queried turning to Tyreese.

“Yeah, I got it,” he replied.

“I’ll go up after ya’ll are done out there,” Abraham laughed as he slapped Rick’s arm. “Have a good night!”

_That’s certainly taking presumptuous to a new level._

Walking out onto the beach with the babies, Rick set them down on a towel and stripped down to his boxers. He washed himself off as quickly as possible in the warm ocean before he took the girls, one at a time, into the water to wash them off. Rick laughed at his water babies when he saw how much they both enjoyed the water lapping around them as they were cleaned. Feeling almost guilty for taking them in so soon, he dropped them off with Glenn and Maggie who were smiling a tad too brightly for his taste.

“Judy and Lucy loved the water. Couldn’t stop talkin’ about it on the way back in,” Rick announced as he threw himself onto the plush bed in a clean pair of boxers.

“Uh huh. Ya comfy there, princess?” Daryl asked as he stood next to the bed Rick was currently sprawled upon.

“Oh yeah. The only way you’re getting me out of this bed is if you promise me a moonlit stroll along the beach while you sing power ballads to me.”

“What? And no wine? I thought ya were classy.”

“I am. Just didn’t wanna scare you off. Oh! And I know why you did this.”

“Why’s that?”

“You just wanted the biggest bed.”

“Yer big ass is takin’ up half of it. I’d have more room if I’da taken that guest bed.”

“You like my big ass.”

Daryl’s only response was to throw a pillow at his face as he made his way to the door.

“The thrill is gone!” Rick called to Daryl’s retreating back.

It wasn’t long before the cloying comfort of the bed seduced Rick into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Coming to an unknown amount of time later, Rick became abruptly aware of two things. First, sunlight was starting to permeate the thin barrier of his eyelids. Second, his significant other was kneading the inside of his thigh and kissing his cheek.

“Keep goin’ and I might have to do somethin’ about that,” Rick mumbled as he stretched in a bid to awaken his sleeping body. Daryl responded by wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him on top of him.

To say that Rick was astonished by this turn of events would be to underscore the importance of it. He and Daryl did not have sex often and when they did, it was never Daryl who initiated it - _nevertheless wake me up for it_. At first Rick thought Daryl wasn’t fond of the idea of sex, but he would start to get antsy if they went too long without. It took months for Rick to figure out that Daryl was borderline fearful of his own orgasms. They were unusually powerful from what Rick could tell and the man seemed to approach sex as if it were a religious experience. This led to him joking one night that if he fucked him hard enough he might see God, to which Daryl replied with a quiet “probably.”

_He’s already naked. Locked the door. He planned this. Daryl, you sneaky bastard. Guess you had more up your sleeve than I thought._

Rick bit his way across Daryl’s collarbones and delighted when he responded by tangling his fingers deeper into his curly hair. Daryl’s body was like a livewire in how easily it reacted to touch. All their sexual encounters to date had not been conducive to the type of exploration most couples go through when they initially got together. Now that he had the opportunity, Rick wasn’t going to squander it.

_Bite earlobe. Tongue tendons of the neck. Kiss arms. Suck junction between upper and lower arm. Roll nipples between teeth. Scratch down his sides. Nip sensitive skin along hips._

Every inch of skin was delicious to taste. Traces of salt were left from his dip in the ocean the previous night and he still carried with him the faint scent of trees. It was a mouth-watering combination that Rick wanted to indulge in further, but Daryl was already a quivering mess and leaking pre-cum. Rick took pity on him by sliding his cock into his mouth, but he wasn’t able to get very far before Daryl’s trembling hand grabbed his wrist and guided it down further than it ever had.

_Does he mean what I think he means? He can’t. Can he?_

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“But we don’t have any - ”

Daryl flicked his eyes to the nightstand where he saw a bottle that he was very familiar with before The Turn.

_How long has he been planning this!? Does lubricant have an expiration date? I guess we’re about to find out._

Squirting a measure of the still viable viscous fluid onto his fingers, he teased Daryl’s entrance until he was relaxed enough to slowly slide a finger inside. Not wanting Daryl to focus on the discomfort while he continued to prepare him, Rick bit and sucked up the length of the leg propped against his shoulder. Rick marveled at how a man so seemingly ambivalent to the world was able to dissolve into something so wanton and needy under his touch.

“Rick, please,” Daryl gasped out sometime after Rick had worked in a third finger.

“Where do you want me?”

Mischief glittered in his night-sky blue eyes as he ordered, “On your back.”

_It’s a good thing he’s never looked at me like that outside the bedroom. We could be in the middle of a herd of walkers and I’d still go to my knees._

Rick obeyed his command and quickly rid himself of the boxers he forgot he was still wearing. He applied a coat of the lubricant to his cock before Daryl straddled his hips and began lowering himself onto it. A breathy groan escaped Daryl’s throat as he threw his head back at the bombardment of new sensations. He wasn’t the only one.

_Oh my God. Oh my God. I’m going to die. No wonder he’s terrified of his own orgasms. He’ll kill me if I come right now, but I’m so close. God does he look beautiful, though. I did that to him. I made him look destroyed. Do I look the same? Probably. Hope he knows he did that to me. We destroy each other so we can put us back together. Pieces transferring from one to the other. Greater than the sum of our parts._

Insistent hands were pulling Rick’s face towards their owner and he propped himself up on his arms to reach him. Daryl immediately swooped forward once he was within reach to place kisses light as feathers on his lips as he began rocking his body in a steady motion.

_This isn’t casual sex or some celebratory fuck. He’s making love to me. Expressing the words he finds so difficult to say. Singing me a song he’s never heard. Painting a picture he’s never seen. Dancing without knowing the steps. Daryl, what are you trying to tell me? I’m listening. I can hear you. Your body is telling me more than your words ever will._

_You love me? Yes, I know. I see it every day. Do you know that I love you? I love you more than you’ll ever know. I’ve never loved anyone as I love you. There is no face more beautiful to me than yours. I want to see it every day for the rest of my life. Sometimes I feel as if I’m choking on all the emotion I have for you._

_Is this why you close yourself off from me sometimes? I know the truth now. It’s not that you feel too little, but that you feel too much. I understand. I see now. I see you. Only you._

“Take me ta my back.”

Flipping them so their positions were reversed, Rick commenced pistoning his hips into the pliant body beneath him as they continued their conversation.

_Is this a beginning or an end, Love? Where will our story go? If you lead, I will follow. You’ve brought me back from the dead. We’ve come back from the dead for each other. I am committed to you. I will never leave your side. You will never be alone again._

_You’re going to come. I can see it. Don’t be afraid of it. I will catch you if you fall. Come for me, Daryl._

“Come for me.”

_Fuck! You look gorgeous when you come. God, you actually screamed. I’m going to come. I’m probably not going to do any better. Here’s to praying these walls are soundproof. I know you’re here. You’re surrounding me. Engulfing me. Consuming me whole. Daryl. Daryl. I lo- ......... I love................................OH!.........................................................._

“Oh my God.”

Rick looked down at his partner and saw the wreck that he had become. Daryl’s hair was sticking out in every which direction, his body gleamed with a layer of sweat, and he was still shaking with the excess of his orgasm. Pulling out of him slowly so as not to hurt him, Rick pushed himself out of the bed to retrieve a towel from the bathroom. The gelatinous quality of his legs made the trip difficult, but he managed it.

Daryl was still valiantly bringing himself back to the real world from his post-coital haze – _more like collapse_ – as Rick cleaned him. It was several minutes later before he opened his eyes and looked at him. There was a glassy quality to them now as they swam with a depth of emotion that Rick couldn’t hope to name. Rick belatedly noticed that Daryl had taken to absentmindedly twirling the ring on his wedding finger.

So many words coursed through his mind as he thought of what he needed to say. He knew what he _should_ say, but what came out instead was:

“How do you feel?”

_You know what I feel already don’t you? You always know. Sometimes even before me. I know what you feel now. I can see it. I see you._

It was with a synchronicity that few in life are able to share with another that they saw, heard, and felt what the other was thinking.

_**Alive.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Literal blood, sweat, and tears went into the writing of this one. If this series is the only one I ever write, I will mostly likely self-promote it as my magnum opus.
> 
> While writing this series, I realized how much fun I had being inside these guy's heads so if any of you have a prompt or a scenario you would like to see played out in this universe, leave it in your reviews here, under AtHoIA, or send me a message at my Tumblr, [mycroft-silently-judges-you](http://mycroft-silently-judges-you.tumblr.com)! I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> BTW, it truly is one of the great mysteries of my life why Gone with the Wind is considered a romance. It really isn't and I couldn't resist tackling the issue by drawing a parallel to Daryl. Hope you liked that bit.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I look forward to hearing from you!


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